Flashback
by Rogue Krayt Dragon
Summary: Lt. Surge: one of the American military's most pivotal men in the crisis of '84. The mission: drive the enemy backward. But when Surge suspects something more, his own survival could be in jeopardy...
1. One Day

The steady ebb and flow of the waves was a soothing, relaxing sound, and brought a sense of normalcy when there was none to be found. In convert, boats from the harbor gave out steady, belching roars, reminding the people of Vermillion City that all was well in Kanto's bustling port.

All of this was heard by many, but particularly by one.

There was a humble cottage seated upon a bluff overlooking the sea, its white painted blinds flung wide open. The salty air rushed in to greet the cottage's occupant, recently awake from a restless sleep. The air tickled his acute senses. It went first to his nose, then the nerves in his hands and feet, as a preparation to make a move of offense or defense. The smell traveled after to his ears, to ascertain the closeness of a potential threat. And lastly, the sense made his eyes open slowly, for the eye was a deceiver, and not to be trusted.

He realized within a split second that the sense was not a threat, and therefore timed his awakening with a more relaxed pace. His feet stirred, and moved downward off of the bed while his torso moved upward to form a ramrod-straight position. The feet were slid snugly into a heavy pair of combat boots, a kind that went six inches above the ankle and had eight loops for laces. They matched his camouflage-printed sleeveless shirt and military-style haircut that shaved his white-blonde hair into a perfect plateau.

_Lieutenant Surge, Vermillion City Gym Leader, reporting for duty, sir!_

Surge paused to take in the world around him. Combat medals, perfectly shined like the day they were awarded, gleamed from sunlight reflected through the window. An old, black-and-white photo, picturing a young man that was clearly Surge and other soldiers, lined up at parade rest with an American flag in the background, rested in a frame on the small, functional nightstand next to the bed, which was simple, with the functionality of a cot but the comfort of a bed. He looked at the picture again. Mere weeks after it had been taken, the army had dismissed him as crazy, and sent him to recuperate in a mental institution around Lavender Town. He knew something they could never possibly believe...

Sleep the night before had not come easily.

Yesterday there had been a challenger. Red was his name. All Surge remembered was that this Red, who had come from nowhere, had grasped victory with only a few single maneuvers, sending the Leader's own shocking electricity back at him. The most striking thing was not that Surge had lost, for he had not lost a Pokémon battle in a long time, but that throughout the entire sequence of events, even when he had accepted his badge, Red had no spoken a single word.

Nothing.

He glanced over to the shelf that held his Poké Balls. How could they have lost, after all that had happened between them?

_"I tell you, kid, electric Pokémon saved me during the war!"_

Lt. Surge, Gym Leader of Vermillion City, rested back on his bed and remembered.


	2. In the Midst of War

The world was in chaos, with no end in sight.

Thunderous booms sounded everywhere, blocking out war cries. The sky was shrouded in gray, as lightning was attracted to the massive buildup of energy. The clouds swirled in concert with each strike, shuddering. Heavy boots were rushing forward, only to be suddenly silenced with bloodcurdling screams, lost in a firestorm or zapped away by condensed energy. It was a fantastic light show, possibly beautiful if not for the horrible scenes of death.

Soldiers crouched in trenches, barely daring to raise their heads to the surface. Their domed helmets failed to protect them from the battering assault launched in their direction, instead revealing their positions to the attackers. In retaliation, the soldiers ordered their own barrage sent outward, causing decimation that would only be visible in the aftermath.

There was one man that did not wear a helmet, easily recognizable by spiked blonde hair. He crouched in the trenches on one knee, ignoring the mud that smeared thick brown paste all over the camouflage. His boot laces were tied extremely tight, with only one loose end, displaced by the fighting. These tiny disturbances did not matter in the midst of battle, but would become major issues at the cease-fire. Stamped on his uniform was a patch that depicted the American flag, imperfect by a loose thread and a blemish of dirt. His belt contained no weapons. Instead, there were six slots with magnetic clips, five of which were empty. The last contained a sphere, red on the top half and white on the bottom half. The man held another sphere in his right hand. He let out a roar and tossed it high into the air. It burst open. A sound of expulsion sounded simultaneously with a tremendous boom of thunder. The white light that resulted swirled rapidly around before converging upon a single spot.

The thing that resulted seemed almost identical to an upside-down complement that was ten times as large as the sphere from which it had emerged. It rolled by itself to face the opposite line, revealing, triangular, volatile eyes that seemed to burn holes in the very tension-filled air that surrounded it. The man in the trench gave a hand signal, prompting the living sphere to roll forward rapidly. Soon, it became a blur of indistinguishable pink, knocking over several other combatants like bowling pins. Its Rollout failed to slow, and it picked up speed even faster, beginning to glow a blinding white. Its cry of "Voltorb!" was lost in the noise. Right before reaching the edge of the opposite trench, it released a spectacular Explosion.

The earth within the destruction radius was blown to bits in all directions, producing cries of death. However, even that made only a dent in the overhanging sound wall.

A Charizard flew high above the battle, dodging rapid bolts of electricity blasted in its direction. In anger, it roared and blasted a Flamethrower at soldiers on the opposite line. Within seconds they were only ash, their bodies completely incinerated. The ground shook as a tremendous quake radiated throughout the battlefield, caused by an enraged Garchomp. Several soldiers began shooting at it with machine guns, circling it, but its tough hide caused the shrapnel to harmlessly bounce away. It anger the Garchomp let out a roar and slashed at the circle, catching three soldiers in its razor-sharp slice.

Surge, the blonde-haired soldier, launched himself onto the battleground, dodging to avoid nearby explosions. He was about to charge when a large creature planted itself in front of him, blocking his path.

It was a Primeape, consumed by an out-of-control Rage.

The Primeape screamed and thundered forward, its fists flying. Surge met its attack head on, swerving to avoid crushing blows. With the speed of a Scyther, Surge grabbed Primeape's fists, preventing it from attacking. It was a gigantic struggle, and Surge began to sweat uncontrollably with the effort. With only a few short seconds of stalemate, Primeape thrust forward, catching Surge off guard. He was thrown forward into no man's land, lying helpless and the Primeape prepared to punch with its heavy fist…

Out of nowhere, a maelstrom of electricity shot out and struck Primeape, causing it to howl in pain. It fell backward, knocked out by the sheer force of the attack. Surge looked to the side where his saving grace had originated.

Standing only paces away, with its golden electricity sacs still pulsating with energy, was his Raichu.


	3. Visions from the Haze

**A/N: A very special thanks goes to Zokolov, Voltskull, and Softbrush for adding this story to favorites and/or reviewing. There will be much more where this came from!**

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><p>For a second, the explosions around him seemed to cease.<p>

Surge found himself reflected in Raichu's eyes. He saw himself battered and beaten, and frightened. Strangely, he did not feel or look anything like the reflection he had just witnessed. It was quite the opposite, in fact.

Until he saw the next thing in Raichu's eyes.

They were burning.

Surge could feel tongues of flame licking at him. Was it a hallucination? He let out a grunt as he felt the pain searing on his arms and legs. His vision was turning red…

He felt a strange, forceful feeling, like an echoed, shouted warning. In a split second, he rolled to his right, lifting his concentration from Raichu. A monstrous bolt of lightning shattered the earth that Surge had occupied a second before. Chucks of shrapnel-like rock pelted him as he instinctively raised an arm to shield his face. When he opened his eyes, he realized he could not hear out of his left ear. He saw hazy outlines of violent skirmishes through the blackened dust, producing muffled cries of pain and anguish. The side of his head felt sticky. Surge touched the area with two fingers, and they came back stained with crimson.

Raichu.

Surge produced the thought with a kind of clarity that surprised him. It was not an instinctual thought, as was natural in the chaos, but rather a concerned one. Something was very wrong with it.

With the same hand with which he had inspected his wound, Surge grasped the remaining sphere from his belt. He thrust it outward, painting both the rock near him and the top of the sphere with blood. He focused all of his remaining energy upon keeping the sphere steady ahead, and directing it toward the barely comprehensible shadow that was quickly gathering electricity.

"_RETURN!_" he bellowed.

Slightly transparent red light snaked outward from the sphere's center, striking the shadow. There was a cry, and the light returned, bringing with it electricity. The ball clicked with finality, shuddering as the electricity it had absorbed sent a shock through it. The sparks traveled down Surge's body as they struck the ground.

He didn't flinch.

. . .

The rest of the battle was lost on Surge. He could recollect fuzzy images of things being rent apart and heavy noises, but that was all. Before he could process it, everything was over.

But, in reality, it was only the beginning.


End file.
